Publicity
by LoveIsATemple
Summary: Caroline and Klaus both front bands. He's the sweet indie singer, she's the leader of a worldwide phenomenon bent on bringing rock back into the world. When the two are vying for a Grammy for Album of The Year, and are thus forced to sing a duet together, what will happen when old memories and heartbreaks resurface? (AU/AH)


**A/N:** This is for Klaroline AU Week (Day One: Klaroline as celebrities), which I am really excited to be a part of. Unfortunately, with my increasingly busy schedule I've not had a lot of time to write over the past few months, but I've got two stories I'm ready to churn out this week. This is one of them. It will be updated in four instalments, this being the prologue set two years before the events of the actual fic, and hopefully will be finished by the end of the month.

I really want you guys to like this! It has been a blast to write. So, please enjoy and review and whatnot.

* * *

 **What's Past Is Prologue**

"It's early," he says to her softly, pressing his warm lips to her bare shoulder. "Do you have to go?"

She's sitting up in bed, dark grey duvet rumpled by her waist. He has propped himself up on his elbow beside her and she bets if she looks down at him he'll be sporting his famous smirk. And she knows if she sees it, she'll be forced to stay beneath the covers and will have to find some excuse to give her manager regarding why she didn't show up to their extremely important, last-minute meeting.

Caroline Forbes, dressed in nothing but her skin, shoves the duvet aside and buries her boyfriend beneath it. She climbs out of bed and throws her own special smirk over her shoulder as he untangles the sheets from around his head.

"That was completely unnecessary. You could have just said _no_ ," he says, frowning playfully.

She watches intently as he runs a long-fingered hand through his rusty blond curls. Another one of his tricks to lure her back into bed. Smiling coyly, Caroline turns and goes to their shared dresser. It's a large thing. Probably too big for their tiny, one-bedroom, one half-bath apartment, but it was a gift from her mother. How could she turn down the shopaholic that is Ms. Elizabeth Forbes and not suffer the outrageous consequences?

"I've got this meeting with your brother, Klaus. He wants to talk about the _band's future_ ," she reminds him, using her best Professor Trilawni impression. She opens the doors to the dresser and starts rifling through the countless dresses she has acquired over the past twenty-four years. "Sounds important, and therefore I must go."

Finding a dress that looks suitable enough for a meeting, Caroline pulls it down from its hanger and heads for the chest-of-drawers to grab a bra and some underwear.

"It's probably not all that important," Klaus sulks.

Caroline chooses a matching pair of undergarments quickly and whirls around to face Klaus. Sure enough, he's pouting.

She remembers when she first saw that pout four years ago after she told him she needed to be wooed before he could take her on a date. They were music majors together at UCLA. From the moment they met they butted heads. She didn't care for his flirtatious glances or his British accent and that did not sit well with the musical lovechild of two of England's greatest recording artists in recent history, Esther Evans and Mike Mikaelson VI.

In the few classes they shared there were rivalries and competitions. Who could kiss the teacher's ass the best, who could get the highest scores, who could write the best songs, etc. It wasn't until a heated argument after Klaus had sabotaged one of her projects and tried to kiss her when she got in his face did she realise that maybe she didn't hate him after all.

Of course, she'd reacted quickly and pulled away from him the moment his lips pressed tightly against hers. She can't recall exactly, but she thinks there might have even been a slap involved.

Klaus laughed. She started screaming again. Then, he shocked her. Said he'd been waiting for an opportunity to get close enough to kiss her since he first laid eyes on her two years ago. Joked that it wasn't surprising the only time he managed to actually kiss her was during one of their fights. He asked her out on a date a few seconds later, and in her confused state she refused.

 _I'm old fashioned_ , she said. _You need to earn a date. You need to_ woo _me_.

Four years later and here they are, both on the cusp of achieving their life-long dreams. Happy, in love, and blissfully ignorant to the outside world that tells them they're not right for each other.

Caroline pulls her eyebrows together as Klaus continues pouting at her.

"Don't you have a meeting with _your_ manager today, too? I'm not the only one about to drop a debut album, Klausy-kins," she says, morphing her voice as she would if she were speaking to a child. Or an actual puppy dog, not just a grown man who simply enjoys imitating their facial expressions.

She turns around, but not before she catches sight of Klaus's disgusted face.

"What have I told you about calling me that?" he groans.

Caroline laughs all the way out of the bedroom, ignoring the chilled air circulating the apartment as it hits her naked body. On the kitchen table sits a vase of pale pink roses bought by Klaus the evening before as an apology for coming home late from the studio. She smiles at them fondly. The boy has his sweet moments, even if they are few and far between.

Once she's showered and clothed in her plum-coloured dress, Caroline heads back into the bedroom to find Klaus asleep. She tilts her head to the side, watching his chest rise and fall beneath the duvet. He always looks so peaceful when he's asleep. And she knows—God, does she know—how badly they need peace at the moment. What, with both of their debuts coming out in the next month.

For as long as she can remember, Caroline has been desperate to become a singer. Until she arrived at UCLA, she thought she wanted to be a solo artist. The kind of person that sang all of the Billboard Hot 100 songs written by eighteen different people and backed by a lousy, annoying, repetitive track. Make famous the songs that somehow managed to all sound exactly the same.

But, as they say, people change in college. And Caroline Forbes was no exception. Her dorm-mate, Vicki Donovan, introduced her to classic rock one night. And it all went downhill from there. Today she was focused on bringing rock 'n' roll to the 21st Century. Reestablishing what all of that music meant.

An above-average pianist from a young age, Caroline began composing her own songs with Led Zeppelin and The Beatles and The Who as her inspiration. She started writing her own lyrics. Becoming her own frontman.

It didn't take very long for Vicki, a political science major, to want in on the action. Turned out she'd been playing the guitar since she gained control of her motor skills. After Vicki got on board, more of Caroline's friends asked about joining _the band_. A band that didn't exactly exist. Yet.

"Do you often watch me sleep?"

Caroline startles, hand flying to her chest. She feels her heart running into her palm. Blinking, she stares—openmouthed—at Klaus's smirking face. He's planted his elbows in the mattress and she can see the tattoo above his right pectoral, a star matching the one on her own foot, glowing dark against his pale skin.

"You scared me," she says petulantly. "And for the record, no. I do not watch you sleep. Often."

"But you do every now and again?" Klaus asks, grinning a teasing grin. He has way too much fun making her squirm. Sometimes she wonders what she sees in him.

He places his hands on the mattress and scoots so his back is against the headboard. He folds his hands in his lap, replacing his infamous smirk with a gentle smile. "Sweetheart," he says, "believe me when I say I watch you sleep as often as humanly possible."

Ah, yes. That's what she sees in him. His sickeningly sweet side. The side reserved only for her. Sure, he's a nice guy anyway. Those first two years at university were him finally breaking free from his parent's clutches and embracing his "Wild Side". But this is _her_ Klaus. Charming, kind, and unbelievably adorable. If not a little creepy.

"Well," Caroline mumbles, biting her lip shyly. How he manages to bring out her bashfulness after all these years is a mystery to her. "I like to watch you sleep, too. But probably not as much as you watch me."

Klaus nods and releases a breathy laugh. "Probably not," he agrees, climbing out of bed.

 _Damn it_ , Caroline thinks as he stalks toward her. _He's wearing boxers._ He must have put them on while she was in the shower.

The man heading her way isn't what she would call _muscular_ , exactly. He is the header for an indie band, not focused on image, but rather health. He has a leanness to him, a slight curve to the muscles of his stomach. Most girls want nothing to do with this sort of man, but Caroline is far from being what people consider _most girls_. His legs are the strongest part of his body, due to his obsession with biking absolutely everywhere. With a guitar strapped to his back.

Plus, he's got killer tattoos. Caroline's always been a sucker for ink.

She's focusing on the top half of the thick black circle tattoo above the waistline of his boxers, situated next to his hipbone, when he stops in front of her. He stares at her for a moment. A long moment, and she's forced to bring her eyes up to meet his, and it's like time has stopped. The world is nothing but Klaus and his dark blue eyes.

"Did you get a haircut?" he asks suddenly.

Caroline blinks and steps away from him in confusion. "What?"

"Your hair," he says, pointing to the wavy locks. "It's shorter than it was yesterday morning."

"Oh, yeah." Caroline threads her fingers through her soft hair and gives her wonderful boyfriend a surprised smile. "I thought guys weren't supposed to notice when women got their hair cut?"

Klaus tilts his head back and laughs. "You're probably right," he allows.

God, she loves hearing his laugh. It automatically warms her insides. Even if she can't see him, just hearing him laugh brightens her entire day.

"Don't you have to be somewhere?" Klaus asks, reaching out and taking one of her hands in his. He rubs small circles with his thumb against the base of her empty left ring finger. "Emergency meeting with my brother?"

Snapping out of her daze, Caroline pulls her hand away. "Right," she says. She whirls around and hops out of the bedroom, hearing Klaus's heavy footsteps behind her.

"It's all working out for us, isn't it?" Klaus says once she's grabbed her keys and thrown on a jacket.

Caroline smiles, lifting on her toes to give him a quick kiss. Heat rushes through her body when their lips collide and she has to physically pull herself away from him when his arms try to wrap around her waist.

"Yeah, it is," she agrees, breathless.

Turning around, Caroline pulls at the handle of their front door, swinging it wide. Klaus keeps it open and pokes his head out into the hall as she travels down the long, carpeted hallway.

"I love you and I'll see you when I get home," she calls over her shoulder.

The tall man she's grown to depend on nods his head, his mouth pulled to reveal his delectable dimples, before retreating inside their apartment. Only when she hears the door click does she allow herself to punch the button for the elevator.

* * *

Meeting Klaus's brother two months after they started officially dating was one of the greatest things to ever happen to Caroline. By then she and Vicki had found a few members for their band and when Klaus brought Elijah to the venue they were playing, musical sparks flew between the band and the eldest Mikaelson.

Following the completion of their set, Caroline and her friends—who were nameless at the time of the performance—set up a meeting with Elijah. On a sunny, Californian day in the middle of August three years ago, all five musicians huddled into Elijah's stuffy office in one of the fanciest buildings Caroline had ever seen. Thirty minutes after the dark-haired Brit closed the door the meeting was over and the group had a manager.

Elijah is more than just the band's manager. He practically runs their lives. Nothing gets to the band without going through him first, including performances, media appearances, wardrobe choices, and occasionally who the band can and can't be seen with.

He even helped choose the band's name when they signed their first record deal.

"Caroline Forbes, lead singer of The Night Walkers," Elijah greets her as she enters his office.

Since they met he's moved to a larger building. Unlike his old office this one actually has air conditioning. With the added bonus of being able to fit the entire band. Plus a white leather sofa to match the pale blue walls and pristine white carpet. Nobody, not even Elijah, is allowed coloured drinks in the office. And food is definitely not an option.

"You're late," he chastises.

Caroline blushes at the admonishment. People don't usually depend on her to be on time, but when there's an attractive, half-naked man in her bed there's really nothing she can do to be even remotely punctual.

Taking a seat in front of Elijah's huge glass desk, Caroline mumbles out an apology and tries to swipe the images of Klaus from that morning out of her mind. She forgets most times that he and Elijah are brothers. Mostly because the two are so dissimilar.

Elijah isn't unkind, but he's more demanding. Unafraid to say what's on his mind, not thinking of whose feelings may or may not get hurt. He's dark and handsome. Strong jaw, perfect posture. The perfect son.

Klaus is goofy. Oftentimes he gets hyper on sugar or a good song and Caroline will find him singing and dancing around their apartment. And then he'll take her in his arms and swing her around their small living room.

For some reason, Caroline cannot see Elijah doing that with anybody. Not even with his wife, Katharina.

Caroline looks at an image of the happy couple on the wall behind Elijah's chair. Taken by a professional photographer for thousands of dollars. Kate looks incredibly thrilled to be in some random, California meadow, strapped to Elijah's side. The picture brings a smile to Caroline's face.

Before her, Elijah takes his seat on the other side of the desk. He taps at his laptop for a moment, face contorted in concentration.

"So," he says. He doesn't look away from the computer screen, and unease glides into Caroline's knotted stomach. "We are less than one month away from the release of this album."

"Uh, yeah. Is that why you called me in here for an emergency meeting?"

The tapping goes on for a few more minutes. All Caroline can hear are his fingers hitting the keyboard and the annoying tick tock of the incredibly old grandfather clock in the office. She's always hated that thing. Its noise makes her feel like time is constantly running out. Like she's a member of bomb squad and the C-4's seconds away from exploding unless she can figure out which wire to snip.

Elijah finally looks away from his laptop. A slow, lazy smile glosses over his face. As if he's only just realised she's there. He pushes the laptop—which definitely cost more than Caroline would care to think—to his left and folds his hands on the desk.

Caroline notices he doesn't say or do anything to affirm or deny her question's validity.

Dread turns to chilling fear in her belly. The hair on her arms rises despite the heat in the office.

"What's wrong?" she asks, proud that she doesn't sound _too_ worried. Especially considering she's running through every horrible possibility in her mind.

But that look on Elijah's face—the slight smile, warm eyes, and cool posture—tells her he is about to break her poor little heart.

 _Has the record label dropped us?_

 _Is nobody taking our CD?_

 _Do we sound terrible?_

 _Are you only helping us because I'm fucking your brother and now we've almost reached our dreams you plan on pushing us all the way back down the mountain?_

Why wasn't the whole band here?

Tyler and Meredith and Stefan and Vicki all deserve to know if something is wrong. They should be here with her. Holding hands and bracing themselves for the worst.

"Look, Caroline," Elijah says. He runs a veined hand down his face. Another little tick that links him to Klaus, who does the same thing when he's stressed. "This is a cutthroat business, don't you agree?"

Oh, God. He's about to cut her throat. Let her bleed on his white carpet.

Caroline nods, though _he_ probably does not know how cutthroat the music industry is. Instead of trying to break away from his mother and father, Elijah stuck close by their sides during his university years. He begged them for help starting his own management company, Mikaelson Management.

Because who needs to be original when your parents are the richest people in England?

But she knows how difficult it is to make it in LA. She couldn't have done it without Klaus's influence, sure, but she tried her very best to succeed on her own.

Truth be told, though, without Klaus she'd be tapping her piano keys while procrastinating on what to do with the rest of her life. And even with her boyfriend's help this world is a dangerous place.

Elijah clears his throat and rubs his face again. "Soon you'll be running around on tour. Finally getting your taste of the rockstar world. You'll be signing autographs, living in a van with your four best friends, making memories."

Caroline allows a wave of relief to wash over her.

He isn't saying The Night Walkers are doomed to fail. He isn't telling her she needs to fire anybody.

Caroline's shoulders slump a little and she presses her back firmly into the uncomfortable seat Elijah recently bought. Sure, it looks cool with its sleek white coating and minimalistic pattern, but its hard as rock.

"That being said," Elijah continues, moving his hand into his sculpted hair. "I have some bad news."

The muscles inside Caroline—every single one—tense immediately. Sitting straighter in the chair, she begins pinching the inside of her wrist so hard she's sure blood is running down her hand. She absently leans forward, her heart hammering painfully inside of her chest.

"Elijah, just spit it out," Caroline urges impatiently. She's never been one for delaying the inevitable. It causes too much anxiety and stress.

Elijah pulls at his dark hair and says, "I need you to break up with Klaus."

Laughter tumbles out of Caroline on a continuous loop, just because of the ridiculousness of Elijah's request. By the time the storm of giggles loosen and turn to random hiccups of disbelief, her stomach muscles are protesting even the slightest breath. Caroline rubs her stomach and swipes the underside of both eyes with her thumb. Mascara and salty tears gather on the pad of her finger.

"Caroline," comes Elijah's unnaturally soothing voice.

The blond singer grabs a tissue from his desk and wipes her eyes and thumb, waiting for him to give the punchline of his hilarious joke.

"Caroline this isn't funny," he says firmly. "I've discussed it with the label and they agree. It's best for you to be single at the moment. You and my brother are releasing your first albums very, very soon. You're from completely different sides of the music track, and it just doesn't make sense for you to be together at the moment."

It makes sense, Caroline reasons, that he didn't call the others in for this meeting. He didn't want anybody else to see her falling apart.

She can't help the incredulous sob from escaping her mouth. Unbidden tears well in her blue eyes, and Elijah's face fades into a blob of black. This isn't happening. She is _not_ being ordered to break up with her boyfriend of four years.

She won't allow them—the fucking men upstairs, the fucking _man_ —to tell her what to do.

"I'm not saying you'll never be together again, Caroline. My brother loves you very much, and I can see you feel the same about him. It's just—people want to see that you're available. You're the leader of this band, and romance is dead in rock music. Besides," Elijah says, as if all is well and dandy. As if he hasn't just crushed Caroline's soul, "you'll both be on tour. There are temptations out there that even the purest hearts are drawn to."

Without saying a word, Caroline shoves her chair back. The wooden legs catch on the stringy carpet and when she stands the chair falls on its back. Caroline exists Elijah's office speedily, heading straight for the toilet. She pushes inside a stall and slams it closed, locking it with a loud bang.

Break up with Klaus? For the band?

Who the fuck does Elijah think he is, telling her what to do?

And did he really insinuate that either of them would cheat on the other? Or that perhaps drugs would become a problem?

Desperate tears unstick themselves from Caroline's eyelashes and drip on the bathroom floor. Blood rushes around inside of her skull, and she cannot think straight. The whole world has fallen on its fucking head.

Caroline sits herself down on the closed toilet seat, glad she brought her purse with her. She unlatches the the clasp and pulls out her phone.

"Baby, what's the matter?"

More tears splash against the floor as her mother's voice hits her ears. Her mom may not be the greatest, but she's wise. Years as a cooky therapist for rich, socialite assholes seems to have done her good.

"Oh, Mom," Caroline gasps. She presses her fingers to her lips, feeling tears sliding down her cheeks in anger and bewilderment. "Mom, they want me to break it off with Klaus."

"What do you mean, honey? Who're _they_?" Liz asks, sounding concerned for her only child's wellbeing.

Caroline takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "They," she sputters, "the label. Elijah. Basically everybody in charge of my career."

"Now sweetie, no one is in charge of your career except you. You know that," Liz reminds her.

But Caroline doesn't need to be told that she's running her own destiny. Because right now, she isn't. Nothing is in her control.

"Mom, if I say no they'll do everything to make me miserable. Their minds are already set. You should've seen Elijah's face."

She doesn't know for sure that they'd fire her should she refuse to end her relationship with Klaus, but she's heard enough horror stories— _true_ horror stories—to know that they'd do just about everything they could to ruin her.

"Well, Care," her mother sighs, "I guess you have to choose. Your career or your love life."

 _My career or my love life_.

 _Klaus or music._

"Oh," Liz peeps, "I've gotta go, Care. My next client is here. Follow your heart, baby. I trust you. And Klaus will always love you, even if you two aren't always together."

Liz hangs up before Caroline can say goodbye. Or thank you. Or _what kind of advice is this, you suck at being a therapist_.

How can she just choose between the most important person in her life and the most important thing in her life?

Music has been with her since she was a girl, struggling with the loss of a father. Who would she be if she hadn't grabbed her father's old CD case and found Billy Joel and Michael Jackson? And what would have happened to her had Vicki never been her roommate, or if Caroline had asked her turn down The Doors as she listened to her regurgitated pop?

But without Klaus…

God, who is she without Klaus?

* * *

"I'll do it," she spits angrily, barging into Elijah's office. She points a finger at him. "But I am getting him back once this debacle is over. You think I can't sell records with a boyfriend, fine. But if this breaks his heart like it's breaking mine, then I hope you and your asshole friends are happy about it."

Caroline can feel her throat closing again. Whirling around, she leaves Elijah's office and slams his door shut in her wake, hoping the loud bang shatters the bastard's heart the same as it shatters hers.

* * *

 **A/N 2:**. . . Thoughts?


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